


Excuse Me, Sir?

by Diavolosthots



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Voice Kink, slight nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 12:54:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30089394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diavolosthots/pseuds/Diavolosthots
Summary: The reader has a kink for Barbatos' voice
Relationships: Barbatos (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Original Character(s), Barbatos (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader, Barbatos (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Female Character(s), Barbatos (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	Excuse Me, Sir?

The butler. The silent servant. The one you could never reach. Barbatos was graceful, quick, sufficient, mysterious,... but above all, he was sexy. It’s not even a ‘wow I want to bang that beautiful body of yours’ type of sexy, no. It’s a ‘I don’t know who you are or what your intentions may be, but if you don’t claim me as yours latest tonight, I might die’ type of sexy. It’s ridiculous, really. Barbatos seems like the least interested person, in anything, in the whole universe. He’s smiling and happily following orders that Lord Diavolo gives him, never complaining. Sometimes you wondered if there’s anything he likes to do that doesn’t revolve around the Prince, but quite frankly, you’re a little too scared to ask. 

For some very odd reason, though, you seemingly managed to slither your way into his life, with a little help from Luke, of course. See, the little angel loved you, and you loved him, so baking with him was not an odd occurrence, and of course, as a fellow baker and chef in the kitchen himself, Barbatos sooner or later joined as well. He was strict, at first, teaching Luke like his life depended on it, and you suffer from it too, but it only… made you even more attracted to him? There was something authoritative about the way he spoke, something that made you check everything twice in fear of messing up, but his praise was twice as sweet. Oh… to hear him say those lovely words of, “you’re doing so well, (Y/N).” His voice still resonates in your ears long after he left your side and you finished eating the pastries with Luke. 

Baking and or cooking with Barbatos kind of became an almost daily thing, if he wasn’t too busy. You’re proud to say that you even helped with one or two dishes served to Lord Diavolo, although you told Barbatos not to tell him that in fear of being made the new baker of the castle. By now, you even managed to make Barbatos laugh once or twice, which is, in all honesty, the most beautiful sound you ever heard; how could someone have such an attractive laugh? His deep baritone voice would echo off the walls and right into your heart, making it stop beating for a split second. It’s just… such an attractive sound. You even found yourself thinking about it at night, sometimes innocently like… would he laugh if you put icing on his nose? Would he find it funny if you accidentally spilled all the flour on yourself because you’re such a klutz? Or is he more someone who laughs at the bigger misfortunes of people, like you twisting your ankle while running down the castle’s steps? Although you’re sure he’d be the first to deliver an ice pack. 

Other nights, not so innocent thoughts cloud your mind. Memories enter your mind like that one time where you kneaded some bread and he came up behind you, his chest pressed firmly against your back while he showed you how to properly knead it. “You’re being too gentle… it’s dough, not a dove. Press your palms in.” You had thickly swallowed and nodded quickly in fear of saying something stupid, changing up the technique like he told you to. Or that one time where you tripped over a bowl that Luke had let fall earlier and never picked up, falling to your hands and knees in an attempt to catch yourself and coming face to face with Barbatos’ bulge the minute you looked up. “Careful, (Y/N). We don’t want any accidents… to happen in the kitchen.” Your mind may have been playing tricks on you but the way he emphasized the ‘accidents’ and the soft smirk playing on his lips almost made you believe that he enjoyed the view. 

“(Y/N). Pay attention, the casserole will burn if you don’t keep your eyes on the timer.” You hadn’t even noticed you had zoned out until his voice brought you back. His voice… you swallowed thickly, turning to smile at him softly only to find him frowning at you, “You’re awfully distracted today.” You opened your mouth to protest, but it was actually true. You had been thinking about everything that had already happened between the two of you; all the times his hot breath lingered a little too long on your skin even if he wasn’t close enough for that to be happening. “I.. uhm…” 

His gloved hand placed itself over yours, helping you cut the fresh parsley into tiny pieces, “I need you to be one hundred percent present in this kitchen… but most importantly, with me.” You could’ve sworn his voice dropped a couple of octaves on the last part he spoke, a familiar coil of excitement building in your stomach as a response, “I… yes… my apologies, Barbatos.” “Sir.” You paused, turning to look back at him, feeling him press harder against you until you felt all of him up against your back, “e-excuse me…?” Maybe you misheard him, maybe it was a little sneeze that just got caught in your ear wrongly, but his smile told you otherwise, “I want you to call me sir. I’m your teacher as long as you’re in my kitchen, (Y/N), and…” He paused, the swift cutting of the herb stopping but the grip on your hand with his own never loosening. 

You could feel his whole body, every breath he took, every little movement he made… it made your own breath hitch in your throat as you tried not to rub against him, which was hard, when his package was digging so adamantly into your behind. A sharp breath was taken in right by your ear, his hair tickling the side of your face as he spoke, making you even more hyper aware of the sound of your voice ringing in your mind, “... and you best make sure not to disappoint me, (Y/N).” 


End file.
